


"in the morning of the world"

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion.
Genre: F/F, Tirion., Valinor.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 02:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13649661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Anairë visits the house of Mahtan to be shown the sights of Tirion. Nerdanel is enchanted.(for the My Slashy Valentine thing)





	"in the morning of the world"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Solanaceae.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Solanaceae.).



  
     'in the morning of the world'

  
    Mahtan entered the forge with an opened scroll in one hand, and stood silently by the workbench where Nerdanel was putting the finishing touches to a buckle. When she looked up, he smiled, then sighed.  
   "I have had a letter from an old and very dear friend. He wishes to send his daughter Anairë to stay with us, and to see some of the life of the great city of Tirion."  
   Father and daughter exchanged a look of guilty complicity; neither had any time, or taste, for the endless festivities of the social calendar, and had little knowledge of who or what was in fashion. But Nerdanel smiled encouragingly.  
   "It may be that, coming from the country, she will find even our quiet life noisy and disturbing."  
   Mahtan shook his head "Her mother was a maiden of Nessa, her father followed in the train of Tulkas. Now they organise dancing for festivals and train young dancers. She will not be expecting dull people like us, I fear, but people who can introduce her to society and... Dear oh dear, I have not attended a party since..."  
   "The Gathering of Fruits, father. You had an idea in the middle of dinner and spilled mead all over yourself."

   They laughed together, but Mahtan shook his head slowly "I am too clumsy for these... these things. But you, my dear, you are young, and should make an attempt to meet people your own age, and... and learn to be frivolous ! Indeed, if you put half as much dedication into the pursuit of pleasure as you do into your studies, you should be welcomed at any table !"  
   Nerdanel laughed and shook her head. "I do not think it is as simple as that, father, people have fun because they are with their friends, but your friends are all your pupils or your former pupils, and other smiths. As are mine. Can you imagine us, at the table of Melairë the actor, or Falastar the musician ?"  
   Mahtan, recalling wild tales of drunken excess, that the awed young smiths had whispered to each other in the rare silences of the busy smithy, shook his head again.  
   "But there are other, more civilised gatherings, I am sure that if we merely express an interest in a little entertainment, people will be full of suggestions."

 

   Nerdanel glanced down at the sound of horses riding into the courtyard, though her windows faced the garden and she could see only her mother hurrying around to be certain that all was as it should be before the arrival of Anairë and her parents. She looked up at Nerdanel and gestured urgently for her daughter to come down, before turning away towards the house. Nerdanel took a last look at herself in the mirror; her chestnut hair was woven into a garland of yellow and white flowers, those called Elves Delight, for none of those who had followed Oromë across the great sea had ever seen such loveliness in the form of a flower. Nerdanel tried to imagine a land without them, and thought it must be dreary indeed.  
   The sound of laughter filled the house as she ran down the stairs, Laurelin was waxing and the golden Light filled the hall like a deep pool of amber; she sometimes thought she could feel it, thick as honey, flowing over her limbs as she moved, but nowhere, in any song or tale, had she heard another hint at such a sensation, and she kept the thought to herself, feeling it to be merely a wish, or a dream.

   Anairë was standing by the tall windows, her soft hair the light brown of unpolished wood, and her eyes grey as the smoke of burning leaves, but her face glowed with an inner joy that lit up the room. When she smiled, her beauty seemed to burn through the heart of Nerdanel, stopping her in mid step. The laughter faltered, and Mahtan stepped forwards.

   "Nerdanel, my dear, why not show Anairë the gardens, while we old folks talk of old times."  
  Anairë moved nearer, as her own father bowed to Nerdanel and said with a charming smile                  

  "We have met before, though you will not recall it; it is my delight to see you grown so fair. But be at ease, we have many stories to share, and the most embarrassing ones will be saved for your amusement over dinner. Though alas, I fear that your father will find revenge all too easy, for my youth was filled with reckless folly, and I regret almost none of it !" He laughed, with the rest, then gestured towards his daughter "This is my Anairë, is she not lovely ? I am sure you will agree with us that such beauty should not languish unseen in the quiet country, while all the handsome young Elves are at play in the halls of Tirion."  
   Nerdanel looked at the twinkling eyes of Anairë, then back at the equally amused eyes of her father, and bowed.  
   "Welcome to Tirion, and welcome to the house of Mahtan. We are simple folk, but I hope we can make your stay a pleasant one. Greetings, Anairë, may you walk in the Light ! Will you come this way ?"

  Though she smiled, she could feel the formal words of welcome shift the mood. Her father stood up straighter, and the laughter faded from the eyes of the father of Anairë. Nerdanel turned away, and as she left the room heard her mother speak.  
   "She works too hard, she forgets to speak at all, at times, it will do her good to play a little herself, with other young people..."

 

   Anairë followed in silence until they came out onto the porch. The garden stretched across the whole width of the terrace, her father had cultivated it 'to keep him out of the smithy', after much persuasion from his wife, and to his surprise had found deep satisfaction from the vigour of the growth and the beauty of tree and flower.  
   "Oh, how lovely ! All of Tirion seems spread at your feet !"  
   Nerdanel smiled "No, this is only the second terrace, we are spread at the feet of the House of Finwë, at the top of Túna."  
   Anairë stepped forwards across the lawn and turned to look up at the white towers on the crest of the steep hill, and the light of Mindon Eldaliéva.  
   "We must look like insects to them."  
   "Oh no ! I have met Finwë, and his son Fëanor, they came to speak to father, Fëanor was very charming, and of course Finwë is as kind as they say. I am sure they do not look down upon us with disdain."  
   Anairë looked searchingly at Nerdanel, but smiled swiftly  
   "I am sure you are right, they do say that Finwë is kind," she looked up again at the high towers "But so remote..."  
   "We can take you up to the tower, if you wish ? Then you can look down and feel like a Vala."

  
   They laughed together, and Nerdanel felt her heart tremble at the stab of joy from the smile of Anairë. The beauty was not that of feature, but of expression; the face was pleasant, until she smiled, when she became radiant. In a voice that conveyed far more emotion than she had intended to express, Nerdanel spoke again.  
   "Your smile will soon have you the toast of Tirion."  
Anairë laughed, but looked at Nerdanel for a moment under her long eyelashes, then laughed again.  
   "Come, let us look down on all the other insects below us ! Shall we wave ? Will anyone see ?"

   Nerdanel laughed and led the way forwards. The garden wall was low enough to lean over, but below them was a park, where even the high treetops reached in vain for the heights above. The distant sound of singing rose through the trees, and further yet, hammering could be heard, and the myriad calls of the bright birds of Valinor filled the hot still air. Anairë sighed happily.  
   "Tirion on Túna ! How strange. It seems more like the countryside than even my own small village does. What a lovely view, in such a lovely garden ! Your father must be high in the favour of Finwë."  
   Nerdanel nodded "They have known each other since their youth across Belegaer, though they are not close in friendship. I think it is mutual respect, crafter to crafter, that binds them."  
   "Finwë is a crafter ? What does he make ?"  
   Nerdanel smiled again "My father says he makes a city that Elves flock to, and fill with beauty and song."

   Anairë was silent for a moment. Nerdanel turned to meet the thoughtful grey eyes.  
"My parents were wise to bring me here. Anyone could lure me with introductions and festivities, but you and your family, in the city and yet detached from it by your busy lives, can show me how to see it clearly, and not be swept away by wild enthusiasm."  
   Nerdanel laughed "And I am glad that you have come, it is our hope that you can show me how to enjoy myself as a young person does, and to try for a little wild enthusiasm to sweep me away."  
   Their eyes met in a conspiratorial grin, and in a gesture of unaccustomed spontaneity, Nerdanel gripped the hand of Anairë for a moment. Anairë looked down at their hands, and Nerdanel swiftly drew back.  
   "Forgive me, I did not intend to presume..."  
But Anairë gestured dismissively, then took one of the hands of Nerdanel in her own and rubbed the calloused fingers.  
   "You truly are a smith, Nerdanel, I have never felt such rough hands."

 

   Anairë smiled and the young and not so young of Tirion flocked around her like bees to a flower. Festivals, pageants, plays, concerts, boating parties, sporting events, and picnics in the loveliest places, by waterfalls or still pools, in green glades or silver meadows; the dancing, singing throng swirled around them, around Anairë. Nerdanel watched with amusement, finding herself suddenly popular as those pushed aside from the laughter around Anairë turned to another smiling face to console themselves. But Nerdanel found her eyes increasingly fixed on Anairë, and the disappointed youths would drift away from her inattentive smile. Nerdanel knew that one of these handsome suitors, and some were very handsome indeed, would soon work their own charm on Anairë, and sweep her away into another life. But after every picnic, party or concert, Anairë would shake herself like a waking dog and heave a great sigh and say "They do go on so...".  
   But Nerdanel wondered, not daring to ask, whether Anairë meant the events, or the people talking to her.

 

  Anairë was resting; Nerdanel drifted aimlessly into the smithy, haunted by the subtle curl at the corner of those pale pink lips. She sat restlessly at her desk, leaning her elbows on the slanting board and twining a stick of charcoal through her fingers. The laughing phantom of Anairë danced through her mind, the silver flash of the smoke-grey eyes glowing in the full Light, the cloud of soft, shining hair and the sparkling joy of her smile...        

Nerdanel moved almost without thought, the charcoal rasped softly over the parchment and she began to draw.

   Some hours later a shadow fell over her shoulder, but in the noise and clamour of the smithy she had learned young to block all distraction and to focus on the task in hand. The charcoal moved across the parchment, like a hand drawing aside a veil. She could almost see the dear face, it was almost visible, she corrected a line on the brow, then added a hint of shade in the corner of the pale lips, and felt a great silent sigh of satisfaction, as a voice behind her gave a soft gasp, as though her sigh had sounded from outside herself. The image was clear, she had caught the likeness just so, she sat back and sighed aloud. Behind her, Anairë spoke softly.

   "Is that truly how you see me ?"  
   Nerdanel leaped to her feet, as though her heart were exposed upon the parchment, and looked with shocked embarrassment at Anairë. Anairë smiled warmly.  
   "Sorry, I did not mean to spy, it is awful to be caught when you are not ready. I was dressing for my last Begetting Day, and my friend came into my room while I was dithering over what to wear. I had on a ridiculous tunic and robe combination, and some jewels of my mother, and I was posturing like an actor. Oh, it was embarrassing, and the face of my friend as she struggled to think of something polite to say..."  
   They laughed, but Nerdanel stood before the drawing, wishing that Anairë had not come in, but grateful for her kindness. She breathed more deeply, then steadied herself.  
   "You must think me over-sensitive."  
   "No, not at all ! I startled you, creeping up behind you, but I did not wish to disturb you. It was clear that you were concentrating, but I was curious and impatient, it was I who was at fault."  
   "There is no fault, nor blame, I was merely surprised. But the picture is finished, you did not catch me unprepared. I can do no more." She stood aside, and gestured.  
Anairë reached forwards and picked up the parchment with her small, light brown hand.

  There was a silence. Nerdanel glanced around the smithy, her father, deep in conversation, paused to greet her with a tender smile, then turned back to his assistant. The apprentices were hunched over their benches; jewelry-making could be even more backbreaking than heavy work on armour.  
   Nerdanel smiled, wondering what jewels would best adorn Anairë, whether silver, to match her eyes, or gold for the Light in her hair.

   "It is the nicest picture of me that I have ever seen, Nerdanel, you are wasted in the smithy ! Oh, you do lovely work here, but you should be an artist, not a crafter, you are gifted."  
   Nerdanel blushed with pride, and lowered her head shyly.  
   "Do you mean that ? Or are you being kind to reassure me ?"  
Anairë paused for a moment then put her hand on the arm of Nerdanel.  
    "Though we have known each other for such a short time, I already feel that you are my best friend. I hope you will never need my reassurance on that. But even if I disliked you, this drawing would enchant me, even if it was a drawing of someone I disliked, still it would be a thing of skill and beauty, that anyone would be proud to display."  
   Nerdanel looked up into the calm candour of the smoke-grey eyes of Anairë.  
   "I... thank you, Anairë, you are so gracious and kind that you could insult someone and they would still feel pleased at your attention. You may have the drawing, if it pleases you, though I urge you not to display it, it would be embarrassing indeed, for I am young and inexperienced, there are mistakes in this drawing that I cannot yet perceive, but those with skill in perception will cringe from them."

   But Anairë smiled with narrowed eyes and turned to Mahtan, who had been keeping half an eye on his daughter and his guest. He nodded and strolled across the smithy. Anairë held out the parchment to him and he looked at it in silence for a moment.  
   "Anairë is right, my dear, you truly do have a gift. Your friendship has inspired you, I have never seen you draw such a fine piece. I am proud of you, and I admit, a little envious... But we each have a different part to play in the Music, and yours, I think, will not be in the smithy."

 

   There came a day when no social arrangements had been made. Laurelin waned, but the air wavered in the heat. Mahtan strolled in the garden, where Nerdanel was listening to her mother play the harp. Anairë, who had scarcely touched the embroidery on her lap, laid it aside and stood up. She looked at Nerdanel.  
   "Let us ride out, into the countryside, I feel hemmed in, even in this lovely garden, I have been too long in crowded rooms."  
   Nerdanel leaped to her feet with a grin at Anairë and smiled at her mother.  
   "Do you mind, mother ? May we stay out to dine ? I should like to show Anairë the Silver Bridge."  
Her mother smiled without pausing in the rippling melody and nodded.  
   "Enjoy yourselves, my dears."

  
    They rode slowly through the glades of the forest, where pillars of Light upheld the radiant canopy, where Nessa and Vána had danced before the Elves awoke, where now the children ran laughing on the smooth green turf, fringed with fern, scattered with bright flowers. Anairë laughed, her laughter seemed to ripple as the music of the harp, and Nerdanel felt her heart stabbed for a third time, with a joy so acute it seemed to hurt her. She gazed searchingly at Anairë.  
  
   Had love come so soon ? So suddenly ? Her breathing was difficult to manage, she gripped her knees together and sweet Rosie, her horse, hurried ahead. Nerdanel began to congratulate herself that she would not have to speak until she could control her voice, but Anairë had pressed forwards and was smiling eagerly at her.  
   "Are we racing ? Where are we going ?"  
   Nerdanel turned and tried to smile, but her face was all wrong, her mouth fell open, and her eyes were half closed; she could not speak, but turned away, and urged the poor horse until Rosie lifted all four legs and stretched into a gallop.

   Anairë was there, at her side again, as effortless as breathing should be. Nerdanel gritted her teeth, trying to slow the beating of her heart, until she turned and saw the grey eyes looking at her under the long lashes. She let out a strange sound, a croaking groan, and released the horse. Rosie cantered to a stop, breathing hard, and Anairë slowed and turned until she was alongside Nerdanel, facing back the way they had come. Jewel-bright birds fluttered about them, hovering before the flowers to sip nectar, and flitting away to the next laden tree. The woods were filled with the sweet scent of blossom, and the dark aroma of the rich earth of the Blessed Realm.  
   The air between them seemed to settle and solidify, the moment held, the eyes of Anairë filled the world. But Nerdanel, beyond hope of concealment, found a strange courage in her heightened mood, and let her face speak the truth of her devotion.  
   The pleasant face of Anairë took on a new charm as the thoughts flickered across it. There was a silence long enough for their hearts to slow their pace, Nerdanel longed to be as those who could perceive the thoughts of others, or their spirit, or even their mood. But for her, there was only the surface, the shadows of the eyes and the curl of the lip.  
   "Do you wish to speak, Nerdanel ? "

   Nerdanel was silent, searching the smoke-grey eyes, thinking of the suitors like the bright birds, hovering round Anairë for a time until they came face to face with that question in the cool grey eyes, and then wavering hesitantly before withdrawing. Nerdanel thought of her own, ordinary face, and how few had ever troubled to speak to her, much less hang on her words. Anairë could see as well as anyone else, she could see Nerdanel, those perceptive eyes could see the very thoughts in her mind, she felt sure. It seemed there was no need to speak, surely Anairë could see...  
   "I... I too... I see your smile Anairë and I do not wish to see anything else, not the towers, not the Valar, not the Trees..." Nerdanel stopped, choked with emotion, her whole being seemed frozen into the moment, the world began and ended with the movement of those eyes, she could see each separate eyelash, curving out over the smooth light-brown skin, she could see the tiny freckles, sprinkled across the nose and the wide cheeks. She could see the soft creases in the pale pink lips, and the faintest curl at the side of the mouth, where her own lips longed to be.  
   "I see your hands, Nerdanel the smith, and I wonder how they would feel, on my skin."

   Nerdanel, more shocked than delighted, found that Rosie had picked up her mood and bolted. Behind her she could hear the laughter of Anairë turn to a cry of concern, and she stroked the heaving shoulder of the horse, and whispered into the flattened ears. Rosie slowed to a canter, and Nerdanel turned the gasping horse back to where Anairë approached, slowing, and smiling cautiously at Nerdanel.  
   "I am sorry that I startled you, I did not mean to speak so... so rudely. But I..."  
   Nerdanel drew level, and looked at Anairë with new eyes. When she had spoken of her own feelings, her expectation had been that the dismayed Anairë would leave the house of Mahtan, and not return. Now the smoke-grey eyes looked not cold but enchanting, wreathed in mist and mystery, the curl of the lip altered from amusement to invitation, and the pale pink lips...  
   Nerdanel leaned forwards, without fear or hesitation, and kissed Anairë, for she was a smith, trained in the subtle changes of colour and the secrets of timing, and she knew to strike while the metal was hot.

 

 

 

 


End file.
